Broken Glasses
by Mugsy Lennon
Summary: Even as a child, Kyoya wants nothing but to impress his father. And nothing his older sister can do is going to change his mind. A series of one-shots set in Kyoya's childhood as he struggles to make his father proud of him - but will it really make him happy?
1. Rule 83

Seven-year-old Kyoya Ootori's tiny hands shook with fear and anxiety as he stared at the broken frames at his feet. He wasn't one to cry, but he struggled to hold back the salty tears that threatened to spill down his cheeks. He dropped to his knees and picked up his now broken glasses, holding them gingerly between his thumb and forefinger. He hoped he would be able to somehow fix them before his father found out; he didn't want to be a disappointment like he always was.

"Kyoya," came a kind voice from above him. Quickly, the third son of the head of the Ootori Group stood up and threw his hands behind his back. He looked up then to see a blurry image of his teenaged sister standing there rather than his father - much to his relief.

"Give them to me, Kyoya," she said, bending down to the little boy's level.

"Give what to you, Fuyumi?" the Ootori boy responded casually, reaching up to push his glasses up the bridge of his nose out of habit, only to emphasize the fact that they weren't there.

"Your glasses," Fuyumi insisted, grabbing him by the wrist and pulling his other hand into view. She sighed. "Oh, Kyoya…"

Kyoya released his broken eyeglasses into his older sister's hand and hung his head in shame as she examined them. He felt a single tear drop from his eye to his wrist. "I'm sorry," he whimpered. "Please don't tell."

"Kyoya, they're just glasses," Fuyumi reassured him, rising to her feet and taking Kyoya's clammy hand in her own. She led him into the nearest bathroom and lifted him up onto the shining white marble counter. Kyoya stared completely deadpan at his blurry feet, attempting to squelch the urge to cry. Crying wouldn't make his father proud of him. Crying would only make him more of a disappointment, and that only made him want to cry more.

Fuyumi pushed the loosened pieces of Kyoya's glasses together until they snapped back into place, but that failed to change the forlorn expression on the little boy's face.

Kyoya asked his sister, "Fuyumi, you won't get me in trouble, right?"

"Why would I get you in trouble? Hey, I fixed your glasses; shouldn't that make you happy?"

"I just want him to be proud of me!" the little boy shouted suddenly, surprising even himself.

He felt Fuyumi wipe the tears from his cheeks as she asked, "Who? Our father?"

Kyoya nodded and set his glasses back in their rightful spot on his face.

"Kyoya, you're seven years old. There's no way he could expect much from you."

Kyoya hopped down off the counter and hurried out of the bathroom. He wanted to scream, and to cry, but at the same time, he didn't. He certainly didn't want anyone to know about it. With his big sister calling for him to come back and talk to her, he ran fast as his legs would carry him, slipping and sliding across the floor in his socks until he reached his bed, where he flopped down and yelled into his pillow. Hoping Fuyumi wouldn't find him, Kyoya reached under the mattress and pulled out his small black notebook. He snatched the pencil off his nightstand and flipped through endless pages of scribbled notes, some neatly written while others stained with tears and practically torn apart. He got to the latest page and wrote, "How to make Father proud of me, rule #83: never cry over broken glasses." He returned the book to its hiding place and buried himself under the covers until Fuyumi eventually came to collect him.

"...Kyoya-senpai?"

Kyoya snapped out of his reminiscing when he heard his name escape Haruhi's lips with a tone of sorrow and concern. He picked up his glasses and rose to his feet, ignoring the burning sensation in his cheek. He wasn't going to break number 83. Not again.


	2. Rule 1

**A/N: Thank you to those who reviewed, favorited, followed, and all that good stuff! It motivated me to turn this into a series of one-shots! :D**

**This chapter is dedicated to fellow writer TheRaccoonGoon, who wanted to see the origin of the notebook and its contents.**

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><p>Kyoya placed a hand on the shining, gold-plated doorknob to Ouran Academy's elementary school as his sister's voice echoed in his head.<em> "You never seem happy, Kyoya,"<em> she would always tell him. _"It's okay to have fun every once in a while. You're just a child, you know?"_ The little boy shook his head, banishing the thought to the back of his mind. But it was always there.

He sighed, pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, and opened the door. As he walked down the hall to his classroom, he tried to ignore the other students, because he really didn't want to talk to them; but that's not what his father wanted. He needed to get on their good sides.

"Hey, Kyoya," called a little boy down the hall, running up to the youngest Ootori. "Do you wanna play with me and the other kids before class?"

Kyoya smiled. "No, thank you," he replied politely. "I like to be early to class." Really, he just didn't want to play, because that's not what his father wanted. He didn't want to tell the boy that, though, because his father wouldn't want that either.

"Alright, maybe later, then!" said the cheerful boy before he ran off down the hall with some of the other kids.

Kyoya sighed and walked into his classroom, set his bag down on his desk, and opened up the book he was reading. He didn't want to read. Actually, he didn't feel like doing anything. But that wasn't being productive, and that's not what his father wanted. He shut the book with a sigh and returned it to its place in his bag. Before he closed it again, he spotted the small black notebook he had hid behind a folder.

_"Kyoya, I want you to have this," Fuyumi had said, holding out a thin, wrapped box with a dark purple bow._

_"What's this?" Kyoya had asked his older sister._

_"Why don't you open it?"_

_A bit reluctantly at first, Kyoya had peeled back the wrapping paper to reveal a sleek black notebook with seemingly endless pages. He looked at Fuyumi in confusion._

_"I thought you could make good use of it," Fuyumi explained. "I felt it would be a good way to express your feelings."_

_"Well… thank you."_

_Fuyumi ruffled her younger brother's hair and left the room. The boy smoothed his hair back out and stared at the notebook._

Express my feelings, huh?_ he had thought. _Interesting.

Now, Kyoya stared at the notebook. Should he pull it out? Is that what his father would want?

It was too late to decide now, anyway; the bell had rung. Class was going to start, so Kyoya quickly shut the notion away and prepared for the day ahead of him. After all, that's what his father wanted.

When it came time for recess, Kyoya sat in his own little corner of the courtyard and pulled out the book that he still didn't want to read. But it was what his father wanted. While the children around him screamed, laughed, and enjoyed themselves, Kyoya peered over the top of his book and watched, and he began to feel very sad, although he did not understand why. He was acting as he was told, so why shouldn't he be happy?

"Hey Kyoya, wanna play catch with me?" shouted the little boy from that morning.

Kyoya closed his book and stared at the boy for a moment. He was standing across the courtyard, holding a bright purple ball and waving to him. Kyoya was surprised - not that the boy had asked him to play, but that he actually found himself _wanting_ to. He opened his mouth to decline, but something inside him forbid it, and instead he shut his book and set it down on the bench beside him.

"I would love to play!" he called back, running over to the boy.

_What are you doing, Kyoya?_ came the nagging voice in his head, trying to put him down. _You're not supposed to play games. That's not going to make your father proud._

The seven-year-old boy found himself ignoring it, and it surprised him, but it didn't shock him as much as realizing that, when it was time to go back to class, he didn't want to stop playing.

But it soon hit him that he'd forgotten his book outside, and he knew his father would be upset with his carelessness.

Dread filled little Kyoya from head to toe as he approached the table, almost to the point of sickness. His father looked up at him over the newspaper when he sat down, making the boy's stomach lurch.

Kyoya's two older brothers were seated across from him, engrossed in whatever important things they were looking at. Nobody ever really paid much attention to the youngest Ootori, except Fuyumi. But Fuyumi wasn't home.

"Father," Kyoya said, trying to hide his nervousness. "I lost my book during school today."

Yoshio Ootori did not look up from his newspaper. "Why is that?"

Kyoya stared at the empty plate in front of him and gulped. "I set it down for a moment during recess in the courtyard… so I could go play with one of the other children."

His heart pounded when his father put down his newspaper suddenly. "Kyoya, you have more important things to do than play with inadequate-minded children, do you understand?"

"Yes, Father. I promise I'll do better."

Yoshio shook his head. "When they're young, many assume they have all the time in the world, when really that is never the case. You must realize it is going to take more than this to impress me, Kyoya."

"Yes, Father." Kyoya adjusted his glasses nervously. He felt sick to his stomach. "...May I be excused? I'm not feeling well."

His father nodded, showing no concern for his little boy's health and well-being. Kyoya hurried out of the room and toward his room, bumping into Fuyumi, who was just arriving home.

"Kyoya, what's the matter?" she asked. The boy ran up the staircase, and she tossed her belongings aside and ran after him. "Kyoya, wait! Kyoya!"

Kyoya tried to escape, but his big sister could run much faster than him, and caught him before he could even make it to his room.

"Kyoya, don't cry!"

"He doesn't like me, Fuyumi!" cried Kyoya, blinking away tears.

"Don't say that, Kyo- wait, where are you going?" Kyoya was tearing off toward his room. "Kyoya, please tell me what's wrong! Kyoya!"

Upset with himself and with his father, the third son shut himself away in his room and opened up his bag, digging past his schoolbooks and pulling out the untouched black notebook from Fuyumi.

_Express my feelings, that's what she suggested_, he thought to himself before sliding a ballpoint pen out of his bag. He turned to the first page and paused. What to write?

He couldn't focus. All he could think about was his father's disappointed expression when Kyoya had told him about his game at recess. Kyoya shook his head and clicked the pen in his hand. Then he began to write.

_How to Make Father Proud of Me_, he wrote at the top. Then, on the first line, he wrote, _Rule #1: Always do as Father wants_.

"Kyoya…?" the door creaked open slowly.

Kyoya shut his notebook hurriedly.

"What are you doing?"

"...Expressing my feelings, like you said."

"Good."

Fuyumi left the room, and Kyoya returned the book and pen to his bag. _I'll make him proud of me someday_, he thought. _And this book will make sure of it._


	3. Rule 9

As much as the little boy wanted to please his father, he couldn't help but bear some level of resentment toward the man. It was out of obligation that Kyoya acted the way he did around others, and the maids were no exception.

While Kyoya lay sick in bed one Saturday morning, the maids did their best to care for him. He was grateful for their obvious compassion despite it being their job; however, he wished his father cared enough to at least check up on him.

"Master Kyoya, may I come in?" came the voice of one of the maids outside his door. "I brought you some herbal tea."

"Yes," replied Kyoya. The maid came in and handed the child a small china teacup. "Thank you."

The maid bowed and exited the room again. Kyoya stared into the cup of tea in his hands. It had almost purple tint to it, and it smelled of mint. He recognized it as the kind Fuyumi would buy for him on her way home sometimes. This caused him to smile; Fuyumi may not have been so great at a lot of things, but she was definitely a good sister, even if she did try a bit too hard to make him happy.

Little Kyoya held the cup to his lips and took a nice long sip before setting it down carefully on his bedside table. Did this mean Fuyumi was home? He found himself surprisingly happy at the idea. Kyoya hoped she would come and take care of him, rather than the maids.

His prayers were answered when there was a knock on his door. "Kyoya, are you in here?"

"Yes, Fuyumi."

Kyoya's only sister opened his bedroom door and opened the blinds, sending golden sunshine cascading through the window and over Kyoya's bed. Kyoya smiled and drank his tea.

"Why are you home on a Saturday?" asked Kyoya.

"How could I leave my little brother home sick all by himself?"

"I feel much better, Fuyumi."

Fuyumi yanked open one of Kyoya's many drawers, peered inside, shut the drawer, and opened another; and another, and another…

"What are you looking for?" Kyoya asked, grabbing his glasses off of his bedside table and putting them on.

"Something for us to do," was Fuyumi's response. "Do you really not have any toys or anything?"

Kyoya shook his head. "Father never let me."

He watched as Fuyumi's jovial smile turned upside-down and his stomach did somersaults. Kyoya knew she wanted to bring him some toys, but that she knew their father would never stand for that. Kyoya knew Fuyumi only wanted the best for her little brother but could never give it to him. Kyoya knew this, but there was nothing he could do to fix it. Fuyumi couldn't help him make their father proud of him, even if she did want the best for him.

Kyoya knew this, and it saddened him deeply.

"You know all of your classmates just want to be friends with you, don't you, Kyoya?" Fuyumi questioned him with a hint of disappointment in her voice. "Why don't you ever just let yourself be a child and play with them?"

_He had tried that. It didn't work out_. "Because Father doesn't like it." _Rule number one._

Fuyumi sighed and grabbed Kyoya's jacket off the hook across the room. She came back to his bedside and motioned for him to put it on. He did so. "Let's go for a walk, okay?" She stuck his shoes on his feet and took his hand.

"Why?"

"Why not? What's the sense in staying cooped up in here when it's such a beautiful spring day outside, Kyoya?"

"But I'm sick."

"You said you were feeling better."

Kyoya sighed and hopped out of bed. "Okay."

Fuyumi was careful to sneak Kyoya past the maids, who would be a frantic mess if they knew she was taking him outside. They walked around to the back of the estate, to the rose garden that Kyoya's bedroom overlooked. She sat him down against the wall of the mansion and sat down beside him in the dirt.

"Why did you take me out here?" Kyoya asked.

"I already told you why we're out here," Fuyumi said.

"Oh," Kyoya smiled. He was happy to be out like this with his sister, the only person who truly cared about him. Of course, he would never say it out loud.

"I think that's what other kids like about you so much, Kyoya." Fuyumi draped her arm over Kyoya's small shoulders.

"What do you mean?"

"The way you smile at things. How you're always thinking about something but you never tell anyone what that something is. It's got a certain level of charm to it, Kyoya."

"The other kids may like me, but that won't make Father any more proud of me."

"I think you should let that go, Kyoya," said Fuyumi, "for the best, really. Take this rose, for example." Fuyumi plucked a large lavender rose off of the bush nearest to her and held it in front of her and Kyoya. "Roses are beautiful, charming flowers, but every rose has its thorns." She placed the rose in Kyoya's hands. "Just like you."

Kyoya stared at the rose. He smiled at it.

"It really depends on how you look at it. What's more important? Preserving that delicate blossom or fussing over the thorns you cannot change?"

"I guess you're right."

"There are going to be many things in life that you cannot change, and your situation as the third son is one of them. But to me, it's more important to focus on the good things."

"But Fuyumi-"

"You're just a kid, Kyoya. Lighten up once in a while, okay?"

Kyoya smiled. "Okay."

"Great. Now how about we-"

"Mistress Fuyumi!" came a shout from Kyoya's bedroom window.

Fuyumi muttered something under her breath and looked up. A maid was shouting to them.

"The young master is ill, Mistress Fuyumi!" shouted the maid. "You must bring him inside immediately!"

"Busted…" whispered Fuyumi, rising to her feet and grabbing Kyoya by the hand. "Well, we'd better get you back inside to bed!"

Kyoya's heart pounded against his chest as Fuyumi pulled him off back to his room. His palms began to sweat while she threw off his jacket and shoes. Did this mean they were in trouble?

"Mistress Fuyumi, your father requests I bring you to him!" called the maid from out in the hallway.

Fuyumi cringed and made sure Kyoya was safe in his bed again before hurrying out of the room.

When she was long gone, Kyoya snuck out of the room after her to his father's office and pressed his ear against the wall.

_"You know very well that he answers to me, not you, Fuyumi,"_ he heard his father scold.

_"Yes, Father, but he's only a little kid!"_ Fuyumi replied.

_"His future is not up for you to decide!"_

Fuyumi threw open the door, narrowly missing Kyoya's face. "Kyoya!" she hissed under her breath. "Get back to your room! I'm serious!" When Kyoya didn't budge, she snatched him up and hurried them back to his room.

After she put him back down, she didn't stay long, saying only that she didn't want to get Kyoya into trouble. Kyoya was sad; he wanted his happy sister back. The little boy plodded over to the window and looked down at the rose garden below - the rose Fuyumi had shown him earlier lie limp and wilting in the dirt.

Kyoya grabbed his notebook of the desk and pulled out a pen. He opened it up and clicked his pen.

_"Rule #9,"_ he wrote, _"don't depend on Fuyumi."_

He watched a single angry tear soak into the page in front of him.

Then he shut the notebook, sending a loud slam echoing through the room. He looked at the dying rose again.

_For the better._


	4. Rule 42

**Rule #42**

Kyoya adjusted his black tie and smoothed out his hair. He looked down at his suit to make sure it looked neat before checking himself in the mirror. _I guess this is presentable enough for Father's standards_, he thought, nodding to himself and exiting his bedroom. The boy took a deep breath before he walked down the stairs to the central dining room of the estate that was only used for gatherings. When he entered the dimly-lit room, the eyes of all his father's guests were immediately on him.

"Good evening," he said as politely as he could muster, giving a little bow and taking his seat beside Fuyumi, across from his two brothers.

"Everyone, please welcome my third son, Kyoya," his father said gruffly.

Nobody really spoke in response. Kyoya nodded politely, not really phased. This happened every time there was any sort of business affair at the Ootori estate. Kyoya would sit awkwardly beside his sister and answer any question that was asked of him with the charm that Fuyumi claimed was so natural to him.

Occasionally he would hear the guests whispering amongst themselves, clearly about his position, but eavesdropping was improper, so he always forced himself to shut it out.

"Kyoya," boomed Yoshio Ootori, drawing more attention to the boy. "Go bring the tray of drinks. The maids know nothing of proper service."

"Yes, Father," responded Kyoya, rising from his chair and trying to look sharp as he exited the room. He was upset, now - he liked their maids well enough, but he didn't understand why he was being downgraded to their level in his father's eyes. He obtained the tray of drinks from the kitchen and carried it back to the dining room with caution. Unfortunately, he tripped over his own feet and crashed to the floor, sending the glassware shattering. He hit the ground with a hard thud and tried his hardest not to cry out when a shard of glass cut him across the cheek.

"The poor child," he heard somebody mutter.

"Kyoya!" cried Fuyumi, getting out of her chair.

"Fuyumi, back in your seat!" snapped Yoshio.

"Y-Yes Father," Fuyumi whispered, sitting back down.

One of the maids came to collect the little boy and led him off quickly to the bathroom, where she cleaned and bandaged the cut on his face and left him to wash up, instructing him to return to the dining room when he was finished. The maid looked sad, but Kyoya knew there was nothing she could all else, she answered to his father.

Kyoya stared at himself in the mirror. Thankfully, nothing had spilled onto his clothes. If anything, he had kept his composure, and that was nothing to scoff at. Yet he knew that the mere fact that he tripped and made a mess of things was more than enough to disappoint the stern patriarch.

_Rule #42, _Kyoya thought to himself, making note of it for later, _watch your step._


	5. Rule 136

**A/N: Thanks again to those of you who reviewed! This series has gotten a surprising amount of support, so hopefully I'll be able to keep writing more rules for Kyoya.**

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><p>Kyoya loved the rain. He was entranced by the way the world seemed to slow down when it rained, the way the clouds opened up and poured their sorrows down to the earth in buckets. He loved the smell of petrichor. Most of all, he loved the moment when the sun would first reappear, drenching the city in golden rays and causing everything around him to stop, everything quiet and glistening in the sunlight, if only for a moment.<p>

Sometimes, Kyoya dreamt of touching the clouds, soaring high and far away from his troubles, where his father's expectations would never reach him. Perhaps there was nothing to be gained from it, but when it rained, Kyoya couldn't help but feel happier.

On this particular early summer afternoon while walking, Kyoya stared at the clouded sky without a care in the world. _Looks like it's going to rain_, he thought to himself with a smile. When he returned from the world above, Kyoya looked around to see that he was alone in a crowd, his sister nowhere in sight. His stomach lurched. It was supposed to be a brief excursion to grab an ice cream cone from Kyoya's favorite shop, which had just opened for the summer. The only time he was really allowed a simple ice cream trip was with Fuyumi, and he didn't want to waste it.

"Fuyumi?" he called. "Where did you go? Fuyumi!" Kyoya bit his lip. Somehow they had become separated, and the boy had no money with him and no idea how to get home. His upper lip began to quiver. Kyoya clutched his notebook - which he had decided to bring along, just as he brought it everywhere he went - tightly and took off at a run. He ran every which way, but Fuyumi was nowhere in sight.

Kyoya was lost.

The youngest Ootori felt the humble beginnings of a good rainshower land on his nose. He looked up; the rain was beginning. He sure loved rain, but that didn't mean he wanted to be trapped in it, especially with his notebook.

Kyoya curled around his precious book, seated under a tree with his knees to his chin. The rain began to fall more steadily, and steadier still until it was a solid downpour. He opened up his book and wrote, _"Rule #136: the rain means nothing to you."_ Then he clutched it to his chest again, soaking wet and bawling.

But his feeling of hopelessness nor his grimey glasses could prevent him from hearing the shouts of, "Kyoya, where are you? KYOYA!"

"Fuyumi!" he cried. His sister appeared and engulfed him, causing him to drop his notebook. "NO!" he screamed, trying to break free and grab it.

"Kyoya, you scared me!" cried Fuyumi, holding her little brother tightly.

"My notebook!" Kyoya screamed, pushing Fuyumi away and diving for his book.

"Kyoya, it's ruined! There's no point! Come on before we get into even more problems!"

"Fuyumi, no, I can't! My notebook!" Kyoya flipped through wet page after wet page, all of his hard work, ruined.

Fuyumi pulled her brother and his notebook along, the boy bawling hysterically all the while.

"He'll never love me!" he screamed. "He'll never love me…"

"...You should both be ashamed," Yoshio Ootori scolded his two youngest children.

"We were just going to get ice cream, Father," Kyoya whimpered.

"Enough, Kyoya! I expect substantially more from both of you."

Fuyumi wiped a tear from her face and asked, "Father, do you even care that Kyoya was _lost_? He could have gotten hurt!"

"That's enough out of you too, Fuyumi."

"Don't you even love him!?"

"There is nothing to gain from love. Love is futile."

"So you don't care."

"Out of my sight, both of you!"

Kyoya sobbed and groaned into his pillow. He had cried in the bathtub. He had hollered to himself as he changed clothes. Now, he let out a good scream into his pillow and felt Fuyumi's hand on his back.

"I know you're upset, Kyoya. It's okay."

There was a moan in response.

"You're scared, aren't you, Kyoya? You just want Father to accept you. Well you know what? You can't change who a person is."

Kyoya cried out.

"Here, let me have a look at this notebook of yours. How come you keep it under your bed when you're not using it?"

Kyoya's head shot up. "No!"

"Kyoya, I gave it to you and I'm gonna look at it!" Fuyumi opened up the soggy black book and scanned the seemingly endless pages of rules Kyoya had set for himself but broke continuously. "This isn't what I had in mind, Kyoya!"

"Give it back, give it back!" cried the little boy.

Fuyumi clamped a hand over her brother's mouth and shushed him. "Stop hollering or you'll get us in more trouble!" she snapped, continuing to flip through Kyoya's ruined notebook. "You're usually so quiet and reserved, Kyoya. This isn't like you."

She had a point. But Kyoya was just so _angry_ with himself, and _angry_ at his father. That notebook had seemed like his last hope, and now all was lost. He would never be able to make his father proud, even if he did what he wanted, because his father didn't love him, because he was the third son.

"Fuyumi," whispered Kyoya, wiping the salty tears from his face and adjusting his glasses. "...Why does Father hate me?"

Fuyumi frowned. "Father doesn't hate you, Kyoya…"

"Well it seems like he doesn't want anything to do with me. I know I'm the youngest child, but what did I do wrong?"

Fuyumi stared into Kyoya's dark, serious eyes. He wanted to know the truth, but she was afraid to give it to him. "Kyoya, you're just a kid…"

"I'm getting bigger, Fuyumi. I just want him to be proud."

"Kyoya, you…" Fuyumi pulled her little brother into a hug. "You were a mistake."

She expected him to start sobbing, to break down and throw a fit. But he was silent. Fuyumi pulled back to get a good look at Kyoya's face. She was surprised to see that he was completely straight-faced.

"A- Are you okay?" she asked him.

Kyoya nodded.

"Are you sure, Kyoya?"

Kyoya got up and opened his bedroom window. Before Fuyumi could question him, he grabbed his notebook and dropped it out the window into the rose garden below, out into the rain where he hoped to never again see it.

Fuyumi knew the sun would never come out again.


	6. The Patriarchy

**The Patriarchy**

Ten-year-old Kyoya peered through the crack in his bedroom door, scanning the dark hallway with one eye. Concluding that the coast was clear, he stepped out into the hallway and started down the elegantly carpeted stairs, treading lightly in the eerie moonlight streaming through the hall window. His eyes began to adjust to the darkness of midnight, and he crept across the floor in socked feet like a panther stalking its prey.

Kyoya pressed an ear to the front door, listening intently for something, anything. The winter chill chased his feet from outside and seeped into his skin through the door, sending deep shivers up and down his spine. The scuffling of feet on the other side of the door sent his heart racing, and he stepped back into the shadows.

The cold wind roared into the mansion through the front door, which an unknown bundle of coat and scarf now struggled to shut against the wind. Kyoya darted out of his hiding place and used what little muscle he had to assist.

The door clicked shut, silencing the ferocious gales, and the voice of Kyoya's only sister drifted melodically into his ears as coat and scarf were removed and hung on their respective hooks, "Kyoya, why aren't you in bed? You have school tomorrow."

"I was waiting for you," was the boy's bitter response.

Fuyumi let out a sigh and stated, "Oh, I promised I'd be home by dinner, didn't I?"

Kyoya nodded vigorously. He had waited for Fuyumi for hours, making it a point to avoid his father in the meantime. Yoshio Ootori had clearly been having a bad day, and his youngest son was reluctant to be in the man's presence, at least not without his sister around.

"I'm sorry, Kyoya," Fuyumi apologized, "I completely forgot."

"Your life is so easy, Fuyumi!" the words escaped his lips before he could stop them.

Fuyumi's fists clenched. "I suppose you _would_ think everything is a walk in the park for me, wouldn't you?" she muttered.

Kyoya was taken aback. Was this really his sister?

"Listen, Kyoya, at least you actually have a _chance_ at the company."

"What do you mean?"

"No matter what I do, no matter how hard I try, I will _never_ have the family business in my hands. If it doesn't go to our older brothers, it skips right over me and straight to you, Kyoya."

"But I'm a mistake. I- I don't have the right."

"Better to be an unintentional son than to be the only daughter, Kyoya. Don't be so quick to judge other people's situations."

"But Fuyumi, I don't know what I'd do without a sister like you!"

"You and I both know that being a good sister is the least of Father's expectations. Especially when it comes to _you._" Fuyumi turned and marched off.

The words were harsh, but they were true, and the two youngest Ootoris both knew this and knew it well.

Regardless, Kyoya cried.


	7. New Rules

**A/N: We're drawing to a close. Little Kyoya is finally growing up. *sniffle* They grow up so fast.**

**Thanks for reading! You are all fabulous! :D**

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><p><strong>New Rules<strong>

_Start a high school host club?_ thought young Kyoya, mulling it over for a while in his mind, wandering amongst the roses under his bedroom window. _Well, I guess it's okay. After all, Father did want me to become friends with him, right? _That was it. He was just following orders; or at least, that's what he assured himself.

The sun reflected off of the boy's glasses as he peered up at the clearing sky over his head, the lingering snow flurries beginning to die out. Kyoya certainly didn't feel the same about snow as he did the rain, but he found himself enjoying it all the same. The sky above him was vast and constantly changing. He had always dreamed of touching the clouds, and sometimes his situation made them seem so out of reach. But he began to think that maybe, just maybe, his newfound friendship with Tamaki Suoh would take him there.

Just maybe.

Kyoya spotted something partially buried in the snow, dark-colored in stark contrast to the winter around him. He bent down and reached out a slender hand, plucking the object out of the snow and dirt. A lump formed in his throat when he realized it was his old notebook, cast aside in the pouring rain years ago. He hadn't seen it since that afternoon.

Fuyumi always remarked that he only seemed to grow more and more twisted and crack down ever harder on himself after that day, despite having let go of his notebook. But that was only fair, wasn't it? After all, he was a mistake. He wasn't even supposed to exist. It made sense for him to try even harder to compensate for that, right?

_Right?_

He had never wanted to see the small black book ever again, but soon it was wide open in his clammy hands and his eyes were flitting across the endless pages of rules he had set for himself that he only now began to realize were ineffective. He closed the weathered book and carried it up to his room, where he set it down on his desk, found a sleek black notebook cover buried in a drawer and got to work. When his refurbishing of his childhood notebook was complete, fresh paper and all, Kyoya surprised himself by opening up his desk drawer and digging down to the very bottom where he kept things which were important to him.

His hand soon grabbed hold of what he was looking for: a wallet-sized photo of he and Tamaki earlier in the school year. With little effort he pinned it to the inside of his now reborn notebook and smiled enthusiastically at his creation.

He soon decided it would now be his notebook of anything and everything regarding the Host Club, his friendship with Tamaki, and most importantly, how he would make _himself_ happy.

Kyoya pulled out a pen and turned to the first clean page.

"_How to make myself happy, Rule #1," _he wrote. _"Who my father is does not define me."_

Perhaps he wasn't doing what his father wanted.

But it was what he wanted, and that was all that mattered.

Right?


	8. Retrospect

**A/N: Little Kyoya has grown up. *sniffle* This is the final installment, showing how much Kyoya has changed. Hopefully it's sufficient in that regard, no? Thanks to all of you who have continued to read and support this, as it's encouraging and greatly appreciated! Thanks for all you guys do!**

**And now, the final installment. Enjoy! It's been fun!**

**~Mugsy Lennon**

* * *

><p><strong>Retrospect<strong>

16-year-old Kyoya was on a Tamaki hunt.

The blonde had neglected yet again to return Kyoya's notes after class as he often did, and Kyoya needed them to study for finals. It wasn't in his best interest, but the raven-haired boy felt the need to cram before the Ouran Fair took up all of his time. It had been quite a first year for the duo, what with shaping the Host Club and dealing with the antics of those middle school twins.

As he searched for the host king amongst the roses, Kyoya felt his thin black notebook being torn from his grasp. He turned to see one of Ouran Academy's resident bullies running off with it and snickering, and Kyoya was filled with a sudden feeling of horror and dread.

He chased after the boy, unsure of his identity but determined to retrieve his precious notebook. "I'll have you know my father has a private police force," he shouted after him. "Just give me the notebook and… and nobody gets hurt!"

Everything he had ever been, everything that had ever been of importance to him, his whole childhood - contained in that very notebook.

Suddenly, Kyoya's feet went out from under him and he skidded onto the dirt of the rose garden. He watched the last remaining piece of his lonely childhood disappear from view in agony. He rose to his feet and nearly limped over to the nearest gazebo, holding his now broken glasses gingerly between his thumb and forefinger.

"Hey, Kyoya," beckoned a voice from above. Kyoya looked up. It was Tamaki, holding up the notebook. "I got your notebook back for you, Mommy dear!"

Kyoya grabbed the notebook and stared at it in relief. Flipping through the pages, he was reminded of a childhood Fuyumi had tried desperately to save him from; it didn't have to go on this way.

"I don't have your notes for class," the blonde explained apologetically. "I don't remember where I left them."

Kyoya smiled and shook his head. Typical Tamaki. "It's quite alright, Tamaki, I'll be fine without them," he assured his best friend.

"But won't your father be upset?"

Kyoya closed the notebook on the picture of the two of them. "Quite possibly, but I don't really care anymore, Tamaki."

"What happened to your glasses?"

"I fell and broke them," the Shadow King explained, eyeing a couple lavender roses nearby and thinking of Fuyumi. "But it's okay. They're just glasses."


End file.
